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THE LADDER 

SHORT POEMS 



BY 

PAUL WELLS 



75 3^^ 



Copyright 191? 
By Paul Wells 



©C1.A246524 



THE TORCH PRESS 

CCDAP RAPIDS 

IOWA 



TO 
MY MOTHER AND FATHER 



CONTENTS 



The Ladder • • 


9 


From a Tyrolean Window . • • . . 


10 


A Garden 


11 


To Music in the Night 


12 


Life's Everlasting Shore 


13 


A Tyrolean Shepherd Boy . . . • • 


14 


Like a Night Bird 


17 


Resurrectus • • . 


18 


To A Cathedral Window (in the Church of Our 




Lady at IMunich) 


19 


Dance Masks ....♦•.. 


20 


1 — Schuhplattler. 2 — Legende. 3 — Abendglocke. 




4 — Humoreske. 5 — Momento capriccioso. 6 — Ber- 




ceuse. 7 — Kontraste. 8 — Orientale. 9 — Elegie. 




10— Eine Sage. 




In a Monastery 


31 


September's Moon 


33 


To A Winged Charioteer (on the roof of the Parlia- 




ment Building in Vienna) • • . . . 


34 


Weariness 


36 


The Winter Wood 


37 


Verses • • 


38 


Sonnet (written at the Mausoleum of Franz Liszt at 




Bayreuth) 


39 


Love Song 


40 


My Life of the Morning Is 


41 


My Quest . . • 


42 



Night on the Sea 












43 


A Fantasie 












44 


Light Love 












45 


To A Meadow-Brook . 












46 


De Profundis . 












47 


KONDO 












48 


Sonnet 












49 


Hymn 












50 


Impressions on a Voyage 












51 


Tyrolean Sketches . 












54 


1— Mountain Sunset. 2— To an Alp. 3— Twilighl 




on Lake Wolfgang. 4 — The Blue Hour. 




The Storm Child 


56 


The Elf Child 


57 


Evening Song . • 


58 


Assignation 


59 


Water-Lily 


60 


The Elevation 


61 


The Road to the IMystical Hills . 


62 


From a Life 


64 


Over the Waterfall 


65 


Sonnet to Music (dedicated to Ernest Hutcheson) 


66 


Gardens Under Rain 


67 


Black Fluttering Birds 'gainst the Day Sky 


68 


Storms 


. 


. 


. 


. 




69 



THE LADDEE 

When I was still a little child, 
I often cried, "When Fm a man 
ril climb a ladder to the shy, 
And gather all the stars I can/' 

Now Fm a man and keep my word; 
Each night on ladder which belongs 
To whim, I climb and gather stars. 
And see strange worlds and hear strange songs. 



FEOM A TYROLEAN WINDOW 

Out in the field the peasants are mowing, 
Their long scythes thrash through the clovers blow- 
ing; 
The souls of the blossoms rise from the ground, 
Perfuming the sunshine, which falls around 
Our faces and hands, like the scented hair 
Of a golden lover, soft limbed and fair. 

Come friends, let us play on our instrument ; 

Make music, and let this noontime be spent 

Midst perfume of flowers and perfume of sound; 

Yea let the blue gossamer hours be bound 

In sensuous ecstacy, and let thought 

Float away like black veils with darkness fraught. 

Come let us float upon the odourous wave 

Whilst opal-scented sprays our bodies lave ; 

Let us toss with the foam toward some land 

Of dreams, and like white sea-blooms fringe the 

strand 
Of Beauty's Isle; and like those languid flowers 
Let's lie and dream away the honeyed hours. 



10 



A GAEDEN 

What matter that my heart does ache 
If beauty sings out through the night? 
What matter that my tears do fall 
If they like crystals catch the light 1 

So long as yonder drifting moon 
Shows me the mountains in silver mist ; 
So long as with yon trembling trees 
I feel the thrill of leaves moon-kissed ; 

So long as in the night I hear 
The shepherd's love song which he sings; 
Then am I thankful for my pain — 
The deeper ecstacy it brings. 

And pray my heart with fervent breath, 
Through all the many coming years, 
To make itself a garden sad 
And keep it watered with my tears. 



11 



TO MUSIC IN THE NIGHT 

Ah my beloved, I love thee as 

Thou floatest like an angel through the night. 

And yet because thy beauty is to me 

The most adored thing on earth, 

Because thou canst compel 

My smiles and tears at thy own will, 

Thou choosest now to take my heart 

And crush it with thy beauty, till 

I well nigh faint with pain. 

Yea to the very ground I fall. 

Weeping and quivering with ecstacy 

From which I would but cannot die. 



12 



LIFE'S EVERLASTING SHORE 

come out on life 's everlasting shore 

Love, let us wander sweetly hand in hand. 

The roseate day is passing fast, no more 

E 'er long our happy feet shall pace the strand. 

The twilight o'er our lives so soon will creep. 
And by night's wave we may be washed away. 
Then on the sea whilst for lost things we weep, 
On land our child will laugh with the new day. 

For when each day by night is darkled o 'er, 
Some find the deep, some keep the golden sand : 
So come out on life's everlasting shore 
All ye that love, and wander hand in hand. 



13 



A TYEOLEAN SHEPHEED BOY 

Bare of foot and singing, 

Like a young hunter god, 
Adown the tapestried mountain green dyed. 

Chases the sheep 's-lad fleet. 
And on his long shepherd's crook a-swinging, 
He leaps the stones, only touching the sod, 
Which heaves like cushions of velvet green-pied 

Under his winged feet. 

Hunter of joy is he ; 

Well knows he that his prey 
Lies ambushed in this mountain dell flower fenced. 

Like a star-flower dropped 
From heaven, he falls into this opal sea 
Of bloom, and pausing not he throws away 
His crook and hat and winds his arms, entranced. 

Bound his brown curls un cropped. 

Laughs then into the stream 

Set like a sapphire clear 
Midst emerald ferns glazed o 'er with beryl flake - — 

Nature's jeweled ornament. 
This is his sanctum ; leaf hidden I seem 
An intruding pagan cringing in fear 
Before this young priest preparing to take 

His holy sacrament. 

14 



Of his garments homespun 

Swiftly he strips himself, 
As a rose-bud, knowing the March wind flown, 

Strips off its coarse pod brown. 
And like a gold daisy kissed o ' the sun, 
He blooms brown limned to be wooed by an elf. 
Par up the mountain his sheep graze alone, 

But through the trees floats down 

A bell-chimed rhapsody, 

Blending the cello drone 
Of bees with notes of flutes and oboes sweet 

Played someyhere overhead. 
And like one dancing to a melody, 
Lithely he trips down to the brook thick sown 
With moss, and dipping first his rosy feet, 

He takes his watery bed. 

His sought for joy is found. 

And parting the cool ferns 
He laughs to see the awkward drowsy snails 

Start, wakened by the sun. 
For long he lies, his limbs in ripples wound ; 
But now he trembles as his pleasure turns 
To drowsiness, and rising shakes the veils 

Of dew thread off ; and done 

With waters, chilled like dawn. 
He clambers from the stream. 
Choosing the softest of the moss grown bowers, 
He spreads himself for rest, 
15 



And gleams pale as a chiselled topaz faun. 
He sleeps, and by his smile I know his dream ; 
He giveth me that dream — of Attic days, , 
When like this boy, youth blessed, 

Endymion lay by day 

And waited for the Moon. 
And like the peasant Sicilians of yore. 

Who on a sleeping god 
Dared not to spy except with death to pay, 
I creep away in fear with muffled shoon, 
That he may not be, when his sleep is o ^er. 

Stripped of his pure god-hood. 



16 



LIKE A NIGHT-BIED 

Like a night-bird my heart is singing ; 
Alone and in the darkness singing ; 
Up through the leaves a spirit winging ; 
Up to the stars a lone song winging. 

That lonely song was born of weeping ; 
My heart f onnd beauty in its weeping ; 
Ever faith in the darkness keeping ; 
Ever a song in the still night keeping. 



17 



RESUREECTUS 

Oil love, oh love until you come to me 

I lie as in a grave 
Enshrouded in my tears which the cold air 

Freezes into my shroud. 
Yea verily this earthy world can be 

As nothing to me save 
A grave-yard drear where lisping ghosts hang e'er 

About me like thin cloud. 

Oh love until you stand above my tomb 

I cannot rise again. 
'Tis you can bring my resurrection day 

And for that day I wait. 
My faith still lives ; oh see the roses bloom 

Upon my bare grave when 
My poor heart calls out through its house of clay — 

*^Love will this trance abate.'' 

Oh love have pity on me in this sleep 

And heed these flowers of hope. 
Let not the time be long — oh come to me 

My love that I may rise. 
Kneel lightly here and let your sweet voice creep 

Below, my grave to ope. 
That I may see the dawn and walk and be 

With you in Paradise. 



18 



TO A CATHEDEAL WINDOW 

In the Church of Our Lady at Munich 

Thou burning thing, glowing with western light, 
Painting bright flowers where tears and shadows 

were; 
Staining the aisles as bursting berries might 
So stain the summer's ground with colours rare; 
Pilling the chalice wdth a wine of blood 
Such as no vintager ever hath pressed; 
Gilding the lamp where holy vapors brood 
And steep themselves in thy spirit light blessed; 

Thou rival brilliance of that Eastern Star 
Which led the world unto the Saviour's feet, 
Be thou the blazoned power to call afar 
And bring the toiler from the poppy heat ; 
The soldier from his song and dragoned shield ; 
The sailor from the sea-steeds which he drives ; 
The dreamer from the daisy powdered field ; 
And with thy passionate beauty stain their lives. 



19 



DANCE MASKS 

{Written after hearing a set of piano compositions called 
^'Walzermasken'^ hy Leopold Godowshy played for the 
first time in Vienna on February 11, 1912, hy the com- 
poser.) 

TO MR. GODOWSKY 

1 — Schuhplatter 

Far up amidst the mountains high, 
Where craggy peaks are staggering 

Endeavoring to reach the sky, 
An emerald lake is shimmering. 

It is a jewel into a wine 

Of sparkling clear distillage flung, 

And midst its filigree of pine 
A mountain tavern quaint is hung. 

This land remote is Austria; 

Now up the road the peasants hie, 
And on a shrine to Maria 

Lay flowers, and to the dance troop by. 

Oh gladly will they dance tonight, 

Yea dance this festal eve away. 
For their gay coloured costumes bright 

Show this has been a holiday. 
20 



The tavern's great room has been cleared 
Of all save benches round the wall, 

And from the low beamed ceiling, bleared 
Oil lamps their dingy light let fall. 

About the room the beer maids flit. 
And neath a Crucifix rough hewn. 

In corner dim musicians sit. 
And for the dance their fiddles tune. 

Into this room the peasants throng, 

Each woman clad in gaudy skirt. 
With head-dress quaint and flying long, 

And bright shawl round her shoulders girt. 

Each man in leathern breeches black 

Cut short; bare-kneed and gaudy socked; 

Green jacketed ; and in the back 
Of his green hat a feather cocked. 

The merry fiddlers 'gin to play ; 

They play no tune, but oft recant 
Two droning chords in rhythmic sway, 

Of tonic and its dominant. 



And to this drone the peasants sing 
Some dancing ditty of their land ; 

Their rough shoes clatter as they swing 
And weave their figures hand in hand. 
21 



And now anon the dance grows wild, 
And each man grabs his partner fair 

About the waist, and like a child 
He tosses her into the air. 

2 — Legende 

One day when Christ was still a lad, 
He wandered through the village street, 

And met some children wild and glad, 
A-dancing on blue- sandalled feet. 

^ ^ Come dance with us, ' ' to Him they cried ; 

He sadly smiled and shook His head ; 
*^Alas my sandals black are dyed 

And heavy are,'' the Boy Christ said. 

His arms He lifted in dismay 

From His frail body, wearily; 
His shadow fell across the way 

Like a black cross on Calvary. 

In fear and awe the children fled ; 

From a well grown round with bitter bloom 
He drank a cup, and back home sped, 

And crept into His darkened room. 

3 — Abendgloche 

Now softly through the young Spring night. 
There floats past me a belPs pure note. 

Like love-call of some elfin sprite 

Soon answered from some silver throat. 
22 



There through the leaves I see it sway, 
Wrapped round with many coloured flowers, 

As though some happy Springtime fay, 
Had hung it there to chime her hours. 

And at the rope a girl and boy 

Pull dancingly, glad with the time ; 

Their hearts are filled with love's young joy. 
And well they love this silver chime. 

They lift their voices in love's song. 
Harmonious with the tones above. 

Oh let me hear for long, for long. 

This evening bell of Spring and love! 

4 — Humoreske 

Beside the frog pond hedged with weeds, 

A slimy stone is laid in state; 

The giggling moon observes the fete. 
And showers her light amongst the reeds. 

Then from the slime, the pleasant queen 
Crawls out and takes her royal seat. 
Her plain coiffure is very neat. 

Her modish gown is emerald green. 

With diamonds and rubies rare 

Her crown is set right heavily, 

And at her throat, topazes three 
But emphasise that she is fair. 

23 



And in her wake come waiting- dames 
Who kiss her hands and stir the air 
With lizzard- scale fans which they bear. 

A knight draws nigh and calls the names 

Of honored ones who'll rigandon 
And dance her authorized court skip. 
Then from the weeds these dancers trip 

They dance for Art — Art's sake alone. 

They pose a pattern like a frieze, 
And then with jewelled fingers bright, 
They beat their little stomachs white. 

And twine their legs in fantasies. 

5 — Momento capriccioso 

Eyes blue as a sapphire mirror; 
Frail hands white that draw me nearer ; 
Blown lips — it does not seem amiss, 
If in the waltz I steal one kiss. 

Eepulsed — ; relief laughs in my heart ; 
My triumph is her angered start ; 
'Tis sweet to take no heed of frown 
At jewels that weigh not in my crown. 

6 — Berceuse 

'*^ Sleep my little one, sleep my own. 
In thy small cradle soft and white. 
And dream of that one blessed night 

When thou to womanhood art grown. 

24 



^*Wlien thou shalt dance at thy fine ball 
In satin gown of wondrous hue, 
And fairy slippers gold and blue, 

And hold all youthful hearts in thrall. 

^^When thy own lover fair to see, 

Shall hold thee in his arms so strong. 
And whirl thee through the dancing throng, 

And give his loving heart to thee. 

*^0h little one, dream of yore 

For thee thy happy mother has; 
A perfect dream, a dream e^en as 

Thy mother lived these years before." 

7 — Kontraste 

The dull November night is chill. 
And round an iron bridge arched tall, 
The foggy air hangs like a pall ; 

Below flow waters black and still. 

And at one end, bneath a lamp 

Whose sooty glass some yellows spill, 
A beggar grinds his organ shrill. 

All out of tune from the night's damp. 

Across the bridge a woman frail. 
Drifts like a leaf danced by the wind ; 
Her tawdry dress is of her kind. 

And crimson paint hides those cheeks pale. 

25 



She pauses in her drifting drear, 
And gazing at the river black, 
She shudders, then her quest calls back, 

And smiles as each man passes near. 

Perhaps this Will is not her own; 

Perhaps this life is not her dream ; 

Perhaps, when gazing in the stream 
She knew a mother wept alone. 

8 — Orientale 

Upon a gilt divan, deep couched 
With satin cushions of bright red, 

In golden robes the sultan crouched. 
With gaudy orange turbaned head. 

Then running slaves sped out and laid 
A silver carpet broidered through 

With a great rose of crystal braid, 
And gemmed with pearl and opal dew. 

In violet silks musicians three 

Bent low and strummed their music wierd; 
One piped a flute of copperie; 

One rhythmed on a drum blue smeared; 

The other plucked the dancing tune 
On emerald harp with strings of brass. 

Then borne aloft, like a pale moon, 
Upon her couch the sultaness 
26 



Was carried to the carpet spread. 

Swathed was she in a robe of grey ; 
And lifting her from off her bed, 

The brown slaves snatched her robe away 

And held it curtain-like behind 

Her as a background for her dance. 

With soft grey feathers it was lined, 
And did her beauty but enhance, 

For her fair body was like snow 

At eve upon a mountain hung, 
Soft flushed with the pink sunset glow; 

And o'er her forehead's crest there swung 

A sapphire blue like one lone star. 

Then like a tossing flower she danced, 
Now dropping low, now leaning far. 

She swayed with motion, all entranced. 

And when her movements languid grew, 

A black slave on the carpet laid 
A squirming serpent green and blue 

Near to a slab of poisoned jade 

The colour of dead human flesh. 

And when the serpent saw the thing 
Agleaming on her forehead, fresh 

It coiled itself for a quick spring. 
27 



Then snatching off the sapphire blue, 
She dropped it on the poisoned stone; 

The fascinated serpent flew 
With hissing fangs, and falling prone 

Upon the jade fierce writhed and died. 

And hectic music filled the room; 
The sultaness with passion cried; 

And through the air swept dark perfume. 

9 — Elegie 

Through Autumn's day in dull despair. 
The leaves funereal dance and sing — 

'^Oh lovely Summer, thou wast fair, 
Fairer still than lovely Spring. 

* ^ Yea thou wast fair, and thou didst pour 
New life into our hearts ; thou wast 

Our heaven, thou wast our God, yea more, 
Our lover from the gold sun cast. 

^*The bliss of perfect days we knew 
When thou didst sit through those green hours 

Beneath thy wondrous veil of blue, 
Among 'st thy garden of bright flowers. 

^ * We happy were when thou didst smile ; 

When thou didst weep, we took thy tears 
Upon our cheeks, and for awhile 

Hung still or trembled with vague fears. 

28 



''And oh the bliss of many a night, 
When hanging on the couched boughs, 

We lay against thy body white, 

Moon washed, and heard thy loving vows, 

''And felt thy scented breath creep o'er 
Our drowsy eyes, and heard thy heart 

Faint trembling at some night-bird's lore 
Of how death doth all lovers part. 

"Oh true and cruel that prophesy. 
For thou art gone; for death the thief 

Hath stoPn thee from our arms, and we 
Drift on, fast fading from our grief. 

"Oh Winter, quickly come and bear 
Us to our graves." — Thus wandering 

Through Autumn's day in dull despair. 
The leaves funereal dance and sing. 

10 — Eine Sage 

Ye great men of the earth, I say 

While standing in your wake, ye are 
But dancing puppets in a play. 
Whom little men ruthlessly slay. 

And if your dance with some new thought. 
Whirls out from these poor men too far. 
Or is with too much beauty fraught. 
Then all your greatness speaks as naught. 

29 



Ye little men of earth, I say 

While looking on your work, beware ! 
How will ye stand at last, when may . 
These puppets come to life one day. 



30 



IN A MONASTERY 

Klosterneuhurg near Vienna 

Along the dark stone corridor beneath 

The ground, unlighted save from the faint glow 

Of swinging lamps before a solemn row 

Of altars screened with gates of frail wrought iron, 

They passed, those monk priests in their surplices 

Of costly lace thrown over cassocks black. 

They mounted then the grey stone steps and passed 

Into the holy sanctuary still. 

Where Christ was pictured in that Passion fierce 

Which bade Him give His life to save the world. 

And one by one they knelt before the shrine. 

And seemed to sway with passion in their hearts. 

With passion for devotion and for prayer, 

Which bade them cast all other thoughts away. 

They raised their voices in a solemn chant 
That throbbed with passion's fiercest hectic note; 
So keen it was, that like a lightning flash 
It charged my every fibre as I stood. 
Like molten fire it raced through my blood. 
And beat like hot waves in my fainting brain ; 
The gold and jewels on the altar frame 
Their glitter sent to scourge my heart which beat 
Against my breast as does a tortured bird 
Hard beat against its narrow prison cage. 

31 



I felt a demon enter in my soul ; 

It raged and grappled with my sanity; 

It wildly bade me give myself away, 

To play my role and die as Christ had done ; 

To rush up to the highest altar step ; 

To curse the priests and desecrate the shrine ; 

To abandon myself before their eyes, 

And hold the sacred vessels in my hands. 

Then when our passions of the moment waned, 
The priests passed dumbly back into their cells — 
And dumbly I passed out into the world. 

Their passion was not greater than was mine. 



32 



SEPTEMBER'S MOON 

September's moon doth ride in state 
Across the victor's star-strewn ways, 

While at her chariot wheels, cruel fate. 
Tread our sweet captive summer days. 

With their departure sorrows come, 

And with them gladness leaves our lands. 

Whilst we remain prostrate and dumb 
They go to serve mongst foreign bands. 

Yea 'twill a saddened country be. 
But we will wait, since strength we lack, 
Until June's moon so kind, will free 
Our summer days and bring them back. 



33 



TO A WINDED CHARIOTEER 
On the roof of the Parliament Building at Vienna 

Thou cliarioteer who motionless wast struck 
Whilst riding o'er this Grecian temple grand, 
I bid thee stir thy bronzed wings once more, 
And whip thy horses into action swift. 
Then catch me up into thy chariot 
And drive me to some land where I may reign. 
Not as a king, but an all powerful god. 

Drive not to that fair Attic land from whence 
Thou camest, for e'en long ago thy gods 
Were driven off by some cruel shatterer 
Of dreams, and those poor unbelieving men 
Would hearken not unto my later voice. 

Drive not to Egypt crumbling in the dust, 
For long ago the bag-pipes ceased their tunes 
Of praise, and entered into Pharaoh's tombs; 
Perhaps there lingers still some faint acclaim 
To Allah, but it dareth not to speak too loud. 

And drive me not to any Western land. 
For there men bow the knee to hoarded gold. 
And have no faith in any other god. 

34 



But drive me to tlie Siberian plains 

Where joy is not; where men are flung aside 

Tike dogs to run before a screaming lash ; 

Where love is not; e^en where pity is not; 

Only perhaps a little faith in God. 

Yea drive me farther still, to where some few 

Escape their chains to wander through the snow; 

Where hunger causes them to howl like beasts; 

Where misery fierce has so bleached their sight 

Of colour, that even the sun is black, 

Since all that is not white snow must be black. 

Oh charioteer, drive me over them. 
Drive me fiercely, for I will be their God. 
I will send clouds of snow, and lightnings 
Of bitter wind ; and I will call to them — 
**I am thy God, behold thy only hope.'' 
And when they lift their arms and cry to me, 
Then will I laugh at them, yea shrilly laugh. 
And I will call the wolves to wait about 
With hungry gleaming eyes until they die. 

Siberia, oh my Siberia, 

What a country for my pleasure thou art. 

Siberia, oh my Siberia, 

I will be thy God, I will be thy God. 



35 



WEARINESS 

So tired am I toniglit that my life seems 
Like a great desert — ^ ending as begmi; 
And o'er it pass some caravans, my dreams, 
Losing themselves and dying in the sun. 

So weary now am I, that in my soul 

I feel a vast sea, meeting stormy sky; 

Its ships are laden with my faith, their toll 

Is death; content am I that all should die. 

Cold is my heart; it is a forest deep 
In night ; no sun of day to warm and cheer ; 
So dark and still it is I cannot weep; 
Alone I stand in silent sorrow here. 



36 



THE WINTEE WOOD 

The winter wood — • 

How cold and dark and endless doth it seem. 

My niunbed spirit wanders through it 

Seeking for some warmth of life. 

But the trees they waver not, 

And the saddened leaves murmur restlessly 

Of the one I loved so much so long ago ; 

Of that day so long ago when in a storm a fair 

tree fell — 
Fell across my breast, crushing the life from my 

heart. 
Now will I wander on until 
I find the lake wherein my heart blood ran. 
There will I drown this corpse and find oblivion. 



37 



VERSES 

I 

Ah tlie Pain of this world so wide; 

The killing, crushing pain; 

'Tis like a demon vain, 
Who, with unloving feet, doth stride 
O'er purple violets crying 

For mercy; but he stalks on; 

Winds find them when he's gone. 
Calling to God, all bruised and dying. 

II 

Ah the Beauty of this golden world ; 

'Tis like the glad sunrise 

Which comes with fresh surprise 
Each morn, burning the dark which night unfurled. 
It wrecks our sorrows and our griefs 

E 'en as a sailing ship 

Kissing the ocean's lip. 
Is wrecked on lovely coral reefs. 

Ill 

Ah the Faith of this world; like sweet 

Morning-glories in night 

Calmly waiting for light ; 
Then their lord, the morning, shall meet 
Their closed eyes with kissing away 

Of darkness and languor. 

And shall show them the splendor 
Which comes with the Eternal Day. 

38 



SONNET 

'Written at the mausoleum of Franz Liszt at Bayreuth 

I wardered through the quaint Bavarian street 
One Sunday morning — 'twas a summer day. 
I found the peasant 's church, I heard them pray 

And sing their homely songs so simply sweet. 

And just outside, unseen by hurrying feet, 

I found the tomb where the great master lay, 
Within a grave-yard where the ivy spray 

"Wound o'er the hymn enshrouded death retreat. 

Of himself immortal song he giveth. 

Music that liveth eternal and grand, 

And he whose world name is a burning brand, 

Now sleeps to peasant hymns and songs of birds 
Behind a door that bears no name, no words. 
Save ^^I know that my Redeemer liveth." 



39 



LOVE SONG 

Oh give me the field and open road 

That I may roam at will; 
And give me cool wood and laughing rill 

That can my fevers still; 
Give me the mountain that my abode 

May be near skies all blue ; 
Then give me your love so strong and true, 

That I may live for you. 



40 



MY LIFE OF THE MORNING IS 

My life of the morning is, since thou dear, hast come 

unto me. 
Thou sun of my heart and my world, causing the 

shadows to flee. 
Thou makest the flowers to open, thou makest the 

birds to sing. 
And with thee in dewy fragrance, the breezes of 

morning bring. 

I will rise now in happiness and go to my new day. 
Working with lighter heart, treading a brighter way ; 
A way which has been through darkness, a land all 

dead and dumb. 
But which now is blooming and singing since thou 

unto me hast come. 



41 



MY QUEST 

To fly towards light; 

To soar until I feel the heat of God; 

To know my tears as but a veil of fleeting cloud 

across my eyes ; 
To look into the sun and see the seven-hued passions 

of the world transfused into the one white ray ; 
To steep my nostrils in the vapors that arise when 

day strikes in where the damp of night has been 

and truth exudes ; 
To hold upon my lips the summer fruits that ripen 

in the sun ; 
To hear close in my ears the eternal hymn of light 

across the strongs of centuries past and echoed 

in the caves of years unborn ; 
Yea to steep my every sense in light till I may say 

that I am light ; 
This is to be my quest. 



42 



NIGHT ON THE SEA 

My soul shall live 

Througli darkest night and stormiest sea, 

xlnd sing out like the watchman's bell, 

For ^^allis well/' 

Yea though my ship is dashed against the rocks 

Which yonder feeble light-house marks; 

Yea though 'tis dragged by storms down to the utter 

depths ; 
Still shall my soul commingle with the Universe ; 
My soul is God and cannot be destroyed. 



43 



A FANTASIE 

The wind is gently playing over nature ^s garden 

fair; 
Tall slender stalks are bending, capped with purple 

blossoms rare; 
Gold butterflies are hovering round and flitting to 

and fro, 
While cloud-bits dancing o'er the sun, fantastic 

shadows throw. 

And with this wondrous magic spell, this scene so 

wierdly bright, 
My soul, swift, light, is floating 'mongst it all with 

wild delight. 
An elf that soul, perhaps, or spirit gladdened to be 

free ; 
Well let it be: so mav it float on till Eternitv. 



44 



LIGHT LOVE 

Come maiden be my little love 

Just for this sunny day. 
Show me your smiles and kisses, love, 

Then you shall go your way. 

I ask not that you constant be. 
Nor that you love no other. 

For if alone you lived for me, 
You might prove quite a bother. 

The flower that is not kissed, you see, 
By sun and rain together. 

Will never always pretty be 
In every kind of weather. 

The raindrops falling on the lake 
Do mar its tranquil beauty, 

And so my many tears would take 
Your prettiness as duty. 

No dear I swear this shall not be, 
I'll keep you bright and fair, 

With laughter in your eyes to see. 
And golden in your hair. 

Before return of cloud and strife. 
Let's love i' this summer day. 

And I will bless you all my life. 
While you go on your way. 
45 



TO A MEADOW-BROOK 

Merrily singing on thy way, 
With never a care thy joy to stay, 
In every season thou art gay, 
Thou meadow-brook. • 

So gay art. thou in fresh Springtime, 
That wild flowers o 'er thy low banks climb. 
Seeking to catch thy merry rhyme, 
Thou meadow-brook. 

So gay art thou with Summer's notes. 
That birds call down from singing throats. 
And winds float by like idle boats, 
Thou meadow-brook. 

So gay art thou in Autumn days, 
That sad leaves on their drifting ways, 
Pause upon thy joy to gaze. 
Thou meadow-brook. - 

So gay art thou when Winter blows. 
That restless snowflake to thee goes. 
Glad to sink and find repose, 
Thou meadow-brook. 

Merrily singing on thy way. 
With never a care thy joy to stay. 
In every season thou art gay. 
Thou meadow-brook. . 
46 



DE PROFUNDIS 

In the night, in the night I cry to Thee 

From out of the blackness which enfolds me ; 
Somewhere in the dark Thou art lost to me; 

Blindly I lie and vainly reach for Thee. 



47 



EONDO 

Poor fallen city whose ruler is slain. 

That ruler who would not have died 
And decked his feast with fragrant flowers. 
Now blacker than Obsidian stone 
The fierce wind-warriors o'er him ride. 

Poor fallen city whose ruler is slain. 

Still from the silent watchmen's towers ! 

I watch and weep for thee alone. 

Poor fallen city whose ruler is slain. 



48 



SONNET 

(To the altar picture of Santa Barbara, by Palma Vecchio, 
in the church of Santa Maria Formosa, at Venice) 

When first I saw thee, Santa Barbara fair, 
I thought thou wast not saint alone, but too 
A queen of royal lineage born ; I knew 

It by thy diadem, thy regal air. 

But when I looked upon thy massive hair. 

Thy full warm throat, thy face so pure and true, 
I felt thou wast the woman whom men woo. 

With whom no saint nor queen can e'en compare. 

I know a maiden like thee who is queen, 
And saint, and better still a woman sweet. 
Through all the years her image I adore, 

And keep the laurel on her altar green. 
I offer her the best gifts from my store. 
And kneel in loving homage at her feet. 



49 



HYMN 

(In the little towns hack in the mountains in Austria, the 
orphan asylum adjoins and overlooks the graveyard, and 
at evening the children gather in an upper room and sing 
their hymns.) 

How sweet to walk where Jesu leads, 

Through the bright garden flooded with light; 

How sweet to know His loving care 
Ever is o 'er us till the dark night. 

How sweet to lie in His cold arms, 

Seeing the too sweet day vanish as breath; 

How sweet to know that when He breathes 
^er our tired eyelids, we shall find death. 



50 



IMPRESSIONS ON A VOYAGE 



'Tis day-break ; in the faded hush 

Out in the East, a palette lies 

Splotched o'er with many coloured dyes 
Now waiting for some painter's brush 

To spread them — dawn's plain grey to hide. 
Oh Thou great Painter whose skilled hand 
Doth paint the flowers on the land, 

And black grief round the deadened clay, 

What wilt Thou paint for me today 
Across this Canvas stretched so wide? 
^^Oh mortal one, I paint for thee 

An opal hued sky and sea ; 

This is enough ; now canst thou see 

A dream of thy Eternity." 

II 

The sea is gray 

And soft as breast of dove. 

The clouds above 
Are gray, but through the rifts 

The faint sun sifts 
A silver way 
Across the deep. 

51 



Some sea-gulls spread their wings, 

And, too, gray things. 
Drop on the silver sward • 

And drift toward 
Some unknown keep. 

in 

The universe is a turquois 

Half dipped in indigo. 

And on the horizon, arow, 
Like tossed white arms of swimming boys. 
Some white sailed boats now gently poise 

In dim phantasmal show. 

IV 

A curtain is the sky this eve, 

Flamboyant cloth of gold and red 
Shot through with gaudy orange thread, 

Such as girls in the Orient weave. 



But lo, this cloth aside is caught 

By unseen hands, and forth there shows 
In coral, hyacinth, and rose, 

A magic veil of frail mist wrought. 

And through the veil the Moon in bliss 
Peeps out, a virgin crescent shy, 
To whom up leaps in ecstacy, 

A young wave for his evening kiss. 

52 



For days we've plighted with the fickle sea, 
But now I know we near the faithful strand, 
For grey sail-boats with swarthy fishers manned, 

Drift out to give us welcome cheerily. 

Alas, the bold sea, jealous lest we be 

Enamoured of the fair and winsome land, 
A cloth of mist across our eyes has fanned. 

Love wins ; and from the mist a rainbow free 
Leads to Walhalla — (god-hood won at last) — 

'Tis Dover hanging painted 'bove the sea. 
Now all night long we 've drifted on and passed 

Light-houses faintly starred ; and with the morn 

I see from porthole, Antwerp 's masts new bom. 
At last Europa fair thy face I see. 



53 



TYEOLEAN SKETCHES 

1 — Mountain Sunset 

Like grey billows the mountains are tossing ; 
Their crests are gleaming with a foam of fire ; 
Sprays of pink and faint purple are flying, 
And pale phantoms rise to beckon and fall. 

2 — To an Alp 

Until the great world dies thou standest there 

Immovable and peaceful in thy power, 

Whilst I, frail creature of the plains below, 

Must creep away after a few short years. 

Oh to hide myself in thy stony arms; 

To sink until I rest in thy strong heart ; 

Till thou shouldst know my wish and promise me 

To keep my spirit till the great world dies. 

3 — Tivilight on Lake Wolfgang 

If I should sink into this quiet gray, 
I'd count my dying sweet if at the last 
Mine eyes beheld yon mountains rising dark 
And softly from the water's fading light. 

54 



If I could see this trembling silver light 
Of sky before it caught the mountains dark, 
Then would I close my eyes and sink at last 
To rest, and be at peace with all the gray. 

4 — Th^ Blue Hour 

As I was climbing through a mountain gorge, 
I saw, far up and hanging to the rocks, 
A tiny cluster of the bluest flowers, — 
As blue as the sky and the lake below. 

And like a wayside shrine they seemed to me. 
I said my prayer and went my happy way. 
Thanking them for the perfect blue they held, 
And the blue that hung in the lake and sky. 



55 



THE STORM-CHILD 

Why is it that on sunny days, 
I go about with silent ways, 
Whilst on the days of stormy skies, 
Within me dear dead passions rise? 

Why is it then I'm lifted high. 
Singing with wind that's passing by? 
Why are with rain, which seems akin. 
My songs of heart then mingled in? 

And what this subtle feeling blest 
That to my life brings peace and rest ? 
And when the winds still stronger blow, 
Why do my songs still sweeter grow? 

A voice from out the wind doth say — 
^^Thou art not a child of the sunny day, 
But thou art kin to storm and rain, 
A child of sighs and tears and pain.'' 



56 



THE ELF-CHILD 

I am an elf so happy and free, 
I fly and sing through wood and o^er lea, 
I swing for hours in yon fairy tree, 
For I am an elf you see. 

And all my days are spent in singing. 
And all my days are spent in winging, 
And all my days are spent in swinging. 
For I am an elf you see. 

I fear not the storm, I ride the gale, 
I dance up and down the moonbeams pale, 
I frisk and play with my shadow frail. 
For I am an elf you see. 

My day all fear and sorrow overthrows, 
I laugh with glee at men's heavy woes. 
My life no hope of eternity knows. 
For I am an elf you see. 

With the sweet summer I too must die. 
But I go to death without a sigh. 
That I have lived why need you ask why? 
For I am an elf you see. 

And all my days are spent in singing. 
And all my days are spent in winging, 
And all my days are spent in swinging. 
For I am an elf you see. 
57 



I 



EVENING SONG 

Sweetheart, the daylight softly dies, 
And with the singing evening bell. 
Our arms entwined, we pace the dell 

Beneath the pale light of the skies. 

The dews are bowing with the grass 

About the altar of the earth, 

And flowers to odours fresh give birth, 
Which like incenses o'er it pass. 

Into a crown I twine these flowers. 
To place upon thy tresses light, 
Proclaiming thee queen of this night. 

And the queen of my life's all hours. 

Thy watching heart on which I lean. 
Doth soothe my weary dreams of life. 
Oh, in my arms, sweetheart, my wife, 

I crown thee now my gentle queen. 



58 



)f 



ASSIGNATION 

Until the sunset hours, love, 

Let us wander through the day; 
Until the death of flowers, love. 

Let us dance and sing of May. 
Then, when we see the flame, love, 

E^er our hearts like flowers must wilt. 
The life cup let us sieze, love. 

That our joy by us be split. 



59 



WATEE-LILY 

Pale flower why floatest thou 
So calmly there upon the pond I 
By waters thou are loved I trow, 
And with sweet kisses chosen hast 
To keep that loving bond 
Until thy life hath passed. 

Ah my pale Love, 

Thou water-lily too. 

Come float thee on this pond my breast. 

I'll lull thee with my songs of love, 

And Sweet, I'll kiss and keep thee true 

Until thou witherest. 



60 



I 



I 



THE ELEVATION 

The organ music echoes on the walls 
Of the cathedral, giving voice like some 
Sea cavern over which the wild waves strum. 
Loudly, richly to the worshipers it calls 
For singing ; surely through these holy halls 
In this glory of sound the Lord will come. 

A bell is rung, — the organ pipes are dumb, — 
O'er all the silence of Christ's presence falls. 

Humbly, softly He comes as long ago 

He came along the Sea of Galilee. 

In silence then we kneel while He is nigh ; 

He passes on ; again the trumpets blow ; 

But through the surging sounds the memory 

Of moments calm and hushed when Christ passed by. 

Cologne 



61 



THE EOAD TO THE MYSTICAL HILLS 

One winter evening when I had abode 
Par back in the mountains of Austria, 

T wandered o 'er a lonely country road. 
'Twas the night of the Feast of Maria, 

And in a wayside shrine deep swathed in snow, 

Two lighted tapers wrapped Her Image in a yellow 
glow. 

So deep the land lay in the winter's power. 
That every tree and house and fence and hill 

Was white and silent in the evening hour. 
And from a cataract beside a mill 

Hung icicles in brilliant clarity, 

Like crystal chimes on which the wind played bitter 
harmony. 

Like great white clouds the mountains hung about 

And seemed to drift with the triumphant snow, 
Binding the heavens where the stars looked out. 

With the faint lights in the valley below. 
Then on the road I met a pretty boy, 
A peasant lad, wrapped in his homespun coat and 
youthful joy, 

62 



And in his hand a lighted lantern hung, 
And in the rough dialect of the land 
He called to me as might an elf have sung — 
* ^ Goodnight my gentleman, I kiss your hand, 
And Marians blessings pray for you, good-night." 
With all my heart I prayed for him the same, and 
wished I might 

Kiss not his hand but his rosy red cheeks. 
And tell him to keep his own lantern bright. 

I longed to tell him that the one who seeks 
To keep his happiness through the long night, 

Must pray to the Virgin, and as She wills, 

Must keep Her white road which leads back to the 
mystical hills. 



63 



FEOM A LIFE 

My days fly by like flocks of birds, 

Leaving old years, old years. 
I search my heart for cheering words, 

I find but tears, but tears. 
I strive for power — ambition sways, 

I grasp cold fears, cold fears. 
There is no joy in all my days. 

And death's eternity nears. 



64 



OVER THE WATERFALL 

Falling waters — falling hopes ; 
Flying spray and passing life ; 
Unceasing roaring — destiny ; 
Churning whirlpool — endless strife ; 
Swirling depths and blinding tears ; 
Against the rocks — no mercy there ; 
At last the waters calm — (ah death) 
Passing to we know not where. 



65 



SONNET TO MUSIC 

(Dedicated to Ernest Hutcheson) 

Dear Music thou hast cleared the night for me ; 

Thou hast dissolved the mists whilst passing by ; 

And thou hast stripped the clouds from off the sky, 
From which the blessed light, celestial, free. 
Streams down and thrills me with its clarity ; 

Thou hast revealed the sacred mountains high, 

Whose mystic peaks in holy radiance lie ; 
Thou hast filled the air with a choralry 
Of angel voices, singing true and clear 

Some songs triumphant which enwrap the sphere ! 

With joy so strong it conquers every space, — 
Or else some sadder songs sent on apace, | 

Which bring strange beauties to the human heart. | 

Oh Music great, thou my Eedeemer art. | 



66 



r 

GAEDENS UNDER RAIN 

i 

Ye gardens under rain — 
Ye sad hearts under tears — 
For you the rainbow's gleam; 
For you the flowers of years. 



i 



67 



BLACK FLUTTERING BIRDS 'GAINST 
THE DAY SKY V'. 

Black fluttering birds 'gainst the day sky — 

My heart 'gainst love, desire; 
"White gleaming stars 'gainst the night sky — 

My soul 'gainst Eternity. 



68 



STORMS 

Let fierce storms rave; with them 111 mount the 

peaks ; 
Midst winds, 111 scourge my heart with music wild; 
O'er earth we'll soar and tears in rain shall fall, 
The while rare flowers into my life shall look ; 
Sweet fruits shall bloom, and I shall be content 
When from my storm pierced heart some songs have 

bled. 



69 



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